Nil by Mouth

Jeezus i’m tired. Since Darleen

Jeezus i’m tired. Since Darleen and Stephen’s visit, i think i’ve gained 10 pounds, half of it consists of phlegm that’s attached itself to my esophagus from navigating smoke-filled bars and parties for the last 10 days. I’ve also managed to empty my bank account of an equal weight in euros.

Also, my longing for New York has returned with a vengeance. I have a ticket for February 22, which seems like years away. Yesterday I received a card from my airline mileage program offering a reduced miles ticket to the states. I am strict about flying the same airline, using the credit card program, the long distance carrier; i even once collected 5 coupons from certain kellogs cereal brands and mailed them in for 500 miles. I have a lot of miles. I have been planning a trip to Thailand with some of of them, but the friends involved seem to be flaking like so much pain au chocolat. Even with that trip i would have enough to also do another New York trip. But only two seconds of logic tells me it’s ridiculous to do a long weekend to New York, wear myself out, screw with my bio-rythms, and use up 35,000 miles when i have a ticket for 10 days in one month.

I attribute the recurrence of this wave of homesickness to the surprising appearance of a social life. Because, as my parents have been telling me all my life, once i have a little i always want more. More more more, damnit! Last night we went to a hole in the wall club near Place D’Italie (on a street we decided to call the “Rue d’esperation”). We walked in and confronted non-stop 60s obscure acid rock, and more mod style mullets in one room than… than… than what, jeez? Darleen exclaimed, “It’s the 60s!” I exclaimed, “It’s Williamsburg!” The 60s and Williamsburg aside, it was a really damn cool place. The vibe was good, the crowd was hot, the music was unique, the drinks were strong. But i couldn’t possibly bring myself to subject some unlucky Parisian to my broken small talk over the loud music. And i was the french speaker in the group – ha. This is easily why i am on a search for a club where i can just dance, and feel like i’m participating without having to speak. Of course no word from the french class i’ve again applied to this semester. If i don’t get in again, i either need to buy some Berlitz course on CD or get the hell out of here.

• Jan 20